


The Gift of Home

by creampuffer



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas fic, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, Schmoop, Twelve Days Of Christmas, ksadvent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 08:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creampuffer/pseuds/creampuffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk woos Spock over the twelve days of Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my lj for ksadvent and i thought i had cross posted it here...but aparently not. so consider this christmas in almost july i guess?

Jim Kirk loved Christmas; always had, always would. For him, the holiday represented all the best parts of life. Because during Christmas, not just on the 25th but the entire season, Jim felt part of a loving family. Something more than himself; a boy living and losing himself in the same house as three other individuals, he was actually a piece of the whole, cohesive familial unit. Rather than feeling like his family was stuck with him, he felt as if he was wanted; chosen and kept around because he was special. The more painful months preceding the holiday seemed to fade into the background, becoming mere distant memories, as Jim got drawn into the pleasantly overwhelming cheeriness of the season. It made the rest of the year bearable, somehow, and less vivid and real when he allowed himself to enjoy the rare moments in December.  
Sure, he knew it was just a temporary respite from reality, but Jim had always been able to overlook that. Because it was such an extraordinary time of year. Christmas meant so much to Jim.

It meant Winona Kirk was home. No matter the mission she was on, somehow Jim’s mother found a way to get back to Earth, to rural Riverside, Iowa in preparations for the festivities. During those few precious weeks, Winona Kirk let the ghost of her husband rest in peace, looked at Jim without seeing the tragic, fallen hero and truly knew him. And loved him for it.

Basically, every happy childhood memory Jim possessed came from Christmases spent with his family. He could remember how excited he and Sam were. They’d get up at the crack of dawn, slowly tip toe down the stairs towards the gifts, carefully open each one - then even more carefully rewrap them before anyone else woke up - because the anticipation was too great. They would stifle gasps of wonderment, disappointment, and confusion as they looked on at the gifts given by his mom, Frank, and other extended family.

And Frank, even his surly, slovenly step dad, managed to put down the drinks long enough to sober up and get into the spirit of things. Jim had learned that when he and Sam were still very little, Frank had dressed up as Santa every Christmas Eve. He’d make sure to bustle about the living room – making as much noise as possible - filling stockings and leaving gifts under the tree, so that the boys could catch a glimpse, then made sure to eat all the cookies and drink all the milk - a hardship, Jim was sure - before leaving fake reindeer prints outside in the snow. It had been a magical aspect to the entire celebration. And when that had stopped and Frank’s drinking problem got to be too big to ignore, it had been on an overly bright and crisp Christmas morning when Jim was 14, that Winona had kicked Frank out for good; putting an end to the blatant neglect bordering on abuse Jim had suffered for so many years.

Christmas was responsible for Jim’s love of the stars, of space. Responsible for his childhood dream - and now adult reality - of captaining his own starship. When he was just five years old, long before he could fully comprehend the meaning behind his unknown father’s sacrifice and what Starfleet even was, Jim had received his first telescope from “SANTA, SO NEXT YEAR YOU CAN WATCH FOR ME.” Space had fascinated him ever since. And even during his rebellious teen and wayward adult years, Jim had never stopped loving the stars, of dreaming about one day exploring...possibly escaping to them.

As he got older, Christmas became less and less about the anticipation of what was under the tree or in his stocking – because he was just getting too old for that - and more about giving people that anticipation. Jim was okay with that, definitely. He found there was little he needed anymore. And after those horrible days spent on Tarsus, Jim found he enjoyed watching the sheer joy of another person light them up from the inside and shine through expressive, thankful eyes. For after seeing so much taken away from so many, Jim thought others deserved to receive.

Jim had never before missed a Christmas at home with his family, not when he hated the world and took off for the unknown on his hover bike or later when he was studying his ass off at the Academy. He craved the feel of the familial bond during such long, cold and depressing days. It was the warmth of the hot cocoa his mom still insisted she make for her baby of twenty five years. It was the warmth of real log burning fireplaces and fuzzy blankets. The joy of seeing someone so happy simply from what Jim was able to give them; not just what they wanted. But perhaps even what they needed. It was the warmth of love no cold could put out.

This year, however; at the start of his five aboard the Enterprise, would be the first Christmas Jim spent away from home. Honestly, he was torn about how to feel. Being captain was, quite simply, awesome. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else than here doing anything other than commanding his crew. And yet...Christmas was so special to Jim. He realized his view was slightly more than an idealized Normal Rockwell type vision of the holiday, but that was okay with him. To Jim, Christmas would always be more than just another holiday, but a fucking institution in his otherwise lackluster life.

So he’d vowed to make the most of things on the ship. Jim couldn’t go home for Christmas, but he figured he could bring to life all that being home entailed on board.

\--

The Secret Santa idea actually hadn’t been Jim’s. That credit lay with Nurse Chapel, someone whose love for Christmas rivaled his own. And even then it had barely come to fruition when Bones insisted having a gift exchange was politically incorrect.

“Not everyone aboard is Christian, hell, human for that matter. You can’t force them to take part in this.”

“It’s not so much about the religiosity of the holiday but rather the spirit behind giving,” he’d told his friend. “But if anyone’s opposed due to their personal beliefs, I won’t make them. All they have to do is come talk to me. I’m not trying to force anything on anyone.”

“Well I guess there’s no harm in it, then.” And with that, Bones helped Jim print off each crew member’s name and put it in a giant bowl for drawing.

Jim was sure there was a more efficient way of randomly assigning people Secret Santa’s, a computer logarithm that he could write in no time at all. But this way, he could for sure pick Spock’s name, or more accurately, not include Spock in the drawing so no one else could.

He was pretty sure Bones was on to his plan when Jim flashed a piece of paper with Spock’s name on it. “Why am I not surprised you got the hobgoblin?” The wry smile sent Jim’s way was all too knowing. Damn Bones and his perceptiveness. And damn Jim for drunkenly admitting to the crush he had on his XO.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

\--

Jim’d be damned if he’d let anyone ruin this for him, even if he was in space, parsecs away from home or the vaguest hint at a culture similar enough to recognize Christmas. And even if “anyone” was Spock - someone he trusted, respected, and...cared for deeply- trying to convince Jim of the futility of such an illogical holiday. Because apparently Christmas no longer served its original purpose, for Christianity to celebrate the birth of their Messiah, but was really only about obtaining gifts.

“It’s perfectly logical, Spock.”

“I fail to see how, Captain.” Spock’s fingers lingered on his knight as he swept the board for a counterattack to Jim’s play.

“Christmas is all about giving. About coming together. It promotes good will toward men and peace on earth, though those sentiments can be broadened to include all races and all planets. Spock, Christmas is about...love.”

“Love.” The scoff may have not been noticeable to anyone else, but Jim recognized the Vulcan scorn. “A prime example of the lack of logic surrounding the holiday. Vulcan’s do not feel love.”

Jim rolled his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. “Whatever, Spock. No matter what you say, you’ll never convince me Vulcan’s don’t feel love.”

Because the evidence was sitting right across from him. Spock, stoic, quietly commanding, and flawless in his, well, logic, may have control over most of his emotions most of the time. But he’d also very nearly killed Jim in response to a comment concerning Spock’s mother, Amanda. No. There was no way Spock didn’t feel love toward, at the very least, his mother. Not with an outburst like that.

But there was also no way Jim would use that as an argument for his case. Because Amanda Grayson was gone. And Spock would never again see her. At least not in this life. And while Jim knew what it was like to have only one parent, he didn’t know what it was like to have and love, only to lose a parent. That horrible burden was Spock’s alone. It was times like these that Jim felt fortunate he’d never had the chance to get to know George Kirk before he passed. If he had, Jim could only imagine how much harder life would’ve been without him.

With that thought ringing through his mind, Jim decided he’d give Spock a Christmas he’d never forget.

“Checkmate.”

\--

Technically the Twelve Days of Christmas occurred after the holiday, but Jim and his family had always used it as a pseudo count down to the twenty fifth, as a fun way to gift anonymously to neighbors and friends growing up. He knew it was the perfect way to go that extra mile for his friend.

So...twelve days. Jim had twelve days to not only prove to Spock that Christmas was important - an integral part of many Terran rituals and traditions - and a means of bringing people closer together, but to also show Spock how much he was loved and cared for. To give Spock a sense of family he probably hadn’t felt since Amanda died...or maybe never really felt at all to begin with.

It had taken a lot of hard work and creative thinking to come up with not only ideas for gifts, but ways to obtain them. Because Spock was a very thorough XO and was sure to go over every report and request that came through his desk before passing along to the Admiralty. But it had been and would be worth it. Jim had a feeling - and those feelings were usually right - that something good would come of it. He just had to stick to his plan. Which mostly consisted of not giving himself away as Secret Santa - though he suspected Spock was smart enough to figure out if he wanted - and keeping his damn feelings out of the equation. Though that seemed a near impossibility considering everything Jim did for and with Spock had a direct tie in to what he felt for the Vulcan.

It was the night before the start of his twelve days of giving. Jim was putting the finishing touches on day one’s gift. He figured Spock wasn’t all too familiar with the song associated with the Twelve Days. And while he tried to make his gifts as relevant as possible, it just didn’t work for some of the days - six geese a laying? Right...- So Jim printed off a small card with the lyrics that Spock could use a reference guide, along with a short note that went along with the gift. He felt satisfied when he looked over everything, except maybe the wrapping job - because let’s face it, how does anyone wrap that nicely? - and fell asleep both excited and nervous for the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: A Partridge in a Pear Tree

1.

Jim had been waiting all day for Spock to leave his personal quarters but it seemed the Vulcan was taking advantage of his time off and spending it doing something, who even knew what, in his room. It was driving Jim crazy, the anticipation and sense of anxious build up for Spock to open his present - something Jim probably wouldn’t even get to see - and if Spock didn’t leave soon Jim’d have to fake some kind of emergency to draw Spock out.

Didn’t Spock eat? Jesus.

Jim called to the computer, again, to ask Spock’s whereabouts. The smooth, feminine voice replied, stating Spock was in Science Lab #1. The sense of pure, maniacal glee that flooded through Jim’s system was a little overwhelming.

Finally!

As quickly as he could, Jim grabbed the present and dashed out his door and over to Spock’s. He used his override to enter, but not before looking around first to make sure no one saw him, and bolted inside. The door swished near silently behind him, but Jim heard it like the sound of a vault closing; locking him in securely. He had to get in and get out fast or Spock would catch him red handed.

But once he was inside, Jim couldn’t help but pause to drink everything in. He’d been in Spock’s quarters before, only natural after close to a year of service together and a friendship that now rivaled his with Bones, but he’d never been in here alone. Without Spock or the feel of his eyes on Jim, carefully scrutinizing whenever Jim got a tad bit too nosey and wanted to...snoop. He could admit to it.

The room was so hot and arid, environmental controls set to what Vulcan would feel like had it not...Jim shook his head to clear the thought. It was neither the time nor the place. He’d been inside but a minute and Jim was already beginning to perspire lightly.

It smelled too. Good. Of Spock. Of the Vulcan incense and smoking coals Spock used while meditating. And the something more that was distinctly Spock; a crisp, clean, earthy smell that filled your nose and had you sucking in air just to breathe it in deeper.

Or maybe that was just Jim.

Everything seemed to be cast in shades of red, gold, and black; a fact which always baffled Jim. For someone so removed from anything that did not serve a distinct purpose, Spock sure had a decadent room. Ornate carvings and ancient scrolls adorned the walls. There were even small types of statuettes placed at strategically visible points.

It suddenly struck Jim that everything was so very Vulcan and he wondered if maybe it was due to the fact that Spock could never go home that he had so many physical reminders on display.

Jim felt remorse and regret bloom in his chest. If only he could’ve done more to stop Nero’s attack on Vulcan.

It was another thought Jim had to force away. At least with his gifts, he’d be contributing in some small way to Spock’s...collection, give him more to remember by. Smiling sadly to himself, Jim set the gift down on Spock’s small table, visible the moment Spock would enter his personal space.

The door had just closed behind him as he exited Spock’s room when Jim heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. He was frozen in place, unsure if he should run for it or act natural.

“Captain.” Though still stated, there was the tiniest bit of inflection in the word, as if in surprise.

So act natural, it is.

Jim tried to keep his voice under control but didn’t quite manage as a louder-than-called-for squawk of “Spock!” escaped.

“Did you require my services this afternoon?”

Oh, and wasn’t that a loaded question.

“Nope.” Thinking on his feet, Jim spoke a half truth. “Just wondering what you’ve been up to all day.”

That damned eyebrow rose. “I spent a significant portion in meditation.”

“Significant portion? No time keeping down to the second? Do you not really know how long you were meditating Spock?”

He grinned as both up-swept brows rose now, so they nearly disappeared under Spock’s bangs. Jim loved teasing the Vulcan, knowing very well that Spock knew exactly how long he’d spent in a meditative state. He couldn’t help ribbing Spock a little, it was in his nature. And like a little boy pulls on girls’ pigtails on the playground, it was kind of how Jim flirted.

“I was attempting a generalization as most humans find my internal time keeping alarming. However, if you wish to know, my meditation lasted a total of -”

“No, no. I was joking Spock.”

“Very well.” Spock stood there, staring at Jim before speaking again. “Was there a reason you sought to inquire after my whereabouts?”

“Uh...” It did look suspicious that he had come over instead of simply comm’ing Spock. Blurting out the first thing that came to mind, Jim asked, “Wanna play chess?”

Spock seemed to contemplate for a moment. “That would be agreeable.”

“Cool. My place? I’ll head over and set things up.”

“Negative, Jim. I must file these reports and submit them before the night is over. It would be expeditious to play in my quarters tonight.”

“Oh...kay...” Now what was Jim going to do?

“As I am scheduled for Gamma shift in two point six hours, staying in my quarters will ensure we may play for a maximum amount of time as is allowed.”

A warm buzz started somewhere deep inside Jim and crept up to his face. No doubt he was blushing.

“I like playing chess with you too, Spock.” Jim kept his eyes averted, afraid he’d be unable to hide how pleased he was at hearing Spock’s offhand comment.

“If you are ready, Jim...” And Jim felt Spock move gently past him to open the door.

He’d almost forgotten why he didn’t want to go inside, too caught up in thinking about what Spock had said, when Jim heard Spock’s quiet, “What?”

Jim was just looking up to see what when Spock stopped suddenly. Too suddenly, because Jim had no time to react and ended up crashing into Spock’s back.

“Ow!” Jim brought a hand up to rub at his nose which had smashed a little too painfully into Spock, making his eyes tear up a little. “Warn a guy, will ya?”

“Forgive me, Jim. I was...caught off guard.”

“Oh? How come?” But Jim could see Spock taking slow, measured steps towards the wrapped present on the table.

“I was given to believe the gift exchange would take place on the twenty fifth.” Spock’s eyes seemed to grow soft as he turned to regard Jim. “I am regretfully unprepared to reciprocate. Had I known you wished to exchange gifts early, I would have had yours as well.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said it was from me?” And just like that, Jim saw Spock’s mask of composure slip back into place.

Damn.

“I believe I have come to an erroneous assumption -”

“So you picked me, huh? Awesome. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do.”

A slight crease marred Spock’s normally smooth brow. “Despite insisting to the contrary, you anticipate receiving a present. It would seem my conclusion was indeed correct.”

“Spock, you misunderstand me. I’m excited, yes. Who wouldn’t be?” Jim saw Spock open his mouth to interject and hurried on. “Besides you, naturally. But just because I’m excited doesn’t mean the giving part is more important.”

“I have yet to see evidence to support your claim.”

Just you wait and see, Jim thought. Aloud he said, “So you gonna open that or what?”

“Is it not customary to wait until Christmas morning?” Spock drew closer to the wrapped object. Jim could see the curiosity painted across Spock’s features, almost a scientific approach to the odd shaped package.

“It is.” Damn. Spock needed to stop questioning and start opening. “But if your Secret Santa gave it to you now, he or she probably wants you to open it now.”

After a moment’s pause, in which Jim was sure Spock was thinking things over, Spock responded. “A logical conclusion.”

Still though, Spock hesitated, hands brushing against the bright red paper.

“I’ll go, Spock, leave you to it.” Jim turned to leave.

“No!” Spock coughed lightly as if ashamed to have spoken out so suddenly and vehemently. “Please, stay.”

“Okay. Sure. No problem.” Jim sat down in the chair opposite the present and got comfortable.  
Spock took a moment to read what Jim presumed was the card taped to the outside. “The twelve days of Christmas?” Rich, warm, brown eyes turned questioningly to Jim.

“Is that what’s going on?” Jim was trying to play dumb. “It’s this old Terran Christmas carol.” He sung the opening line softly. “On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...”

“A partridge in a pear tree?” Evidently Spock was reading along while Jim sang. “But I require neither a partridge nor a pear tree.”

“Somehow I doubt either is in there.” Jim muttered.

He couldn’t help but watch Spock’s hands, always so sure in whatever scientific procedure they were set to task for, tremble slightly. They ghosted over the oddly shaped present. Reverently, almost lovingly, and Jim felt a sudden pang of jealousy; wishing Spock could one day touch him like that. Jim wondered what was going through Spock’s mind as the long, deft fingers finally tore into the paper.

Not wanting to break the silence, but still feeling compelled to speak, Jim asked, “What is it?”

Spock’s lips moved as he read the second note tucked inside the gift. Jim could practically see the words in front of him.

This isn’t really a partridge in a pear tree. That would be illogical. Hopefully, you think this is even better.

\- Your Secret Santa

“A stuffed sehlat,” Spock sounded incredulous, “and -”

“What’s a sehlat?” Jim asked, but he knew perfectly well what a sehlat was and how Spock had once kept one as a pet. I-Chaya. Who perished with the countless other wildlife on Vulcan.

“A sehlat is...was a life form native to Vulcan. Similar to your Terran bear, only with marked differences in -”

“Cool. So you got a teddy bear!”

The blank look on Spock’s face made Jim chuckle lightly. “I am familiar with the object known as a teddy bear. This is not one such item. Though I did have a stuffed sehlat when I was an infant. It looked remarkably like this one.”

Oh, Jim knew that too. “Is that so?”

“In fact...” And as Spock lifted the tag to further inspect, Jim felt a smile threaten to crack. “How is this possible?”

“What?”

“You do not know?” Spock looked doubtful.

“No...should I?”

It was almost too much when Spock’s eyebrow once again lifted - on the verge of being haughty - in an attempt to call Jim’s bluff.

Good thing he had an excellent poker face.

“My name.” Spock held out the stuffed animal for Jim to look at. Written in neat, elegant letters, on the tag, was Spock’s name.

“This was yours? But how?” And Jim infused the question with so much incredulity that Spock looked convinced at his genuineness.

“I do not know.”

“Wow. That’s really cool. Sweet even.” And how it was.

Spock set the toy down but not before Jim noticed two hands grip tightly onto it.

“It is a material object which holds no significant meaning.”

“But -”

“Vulcans do not feel attachment or nostalgia, Jim.” And now Spock was the one putting forth the effort to sound sincere.

“If you say so.”

Seconds passed as Spock once again looked at his gift. A slight hitch of breath was the only indication that he found the second part of it.

“I did not think any species had survived the destruction.” Shaking Vulcan hands lifted out a plain ceramic pot where a tiny bud sprouted from the dirt.

Jim bit his lip to keep from confessing just how hard it was to find the plant. And just how expensive too. But what were a few credits among...friends.

“A plant?”

“It is a favinit.” Spock set the plant down on the table then proceeded to crouch down to look more closely.

“Oh. Cool?” It was getting easier and easier to play nonchalant.

“Jim, the favinit is a Vulcan desert bloom. An orchid. Now that Vulcan is gone, it is virtually extinct.”

“Wow. I had no idea.” Yes he did.

“And,” Spock’s voice lowered to an almost hush of words. “It was my mother’s favorite flower.” The longing in Spock’s voice made Jim ache. “It looks very similar to the orchids found on Earth, though better accustomed to desert growth. Many of the botonists at the VSA believed it to have originated from the same seed as the DNA is so similar in structure.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Now that was the truth.

But Spock continued on as if Jim had not spoken at all. “My mother once told me the favinit was her favorite flower because it was the second most beautiful physical reminder of what she loved best of Vulcan and Earth.”

“What was the first most beautiful thing?” Though Jim had a good guess.

“Me.”

If Vulcans had tear ducts, Jim suspected Spock’s eyes would be glassy with the reminder of a woman, even in the midst of those who would choose not to feel at all, who loved her son so unconditionally. Jim knew the favinit was Amanda’s favorite flower, chose it for that specific reason. It was important to Jim that Spock got the best. He deserved it.

Spock stood up slowly from his crouch, a single finger brushing the small, furry leaf. It was heartbreaking, really, to watch; painfully sweet to see his First show such affection for a plant.

Jim suddenly felt like a voyeur. “I should go.”

“If that is what you wish, Jim.”

No, it wasn’t. Not at all. But Jim figured it was what Spock needed. Time to process all the raw emotions threatening his Vulcan control.

“Yeah, I should get some rest. And I know you have Gamma shift soon.”

“Very well.” Spock walked Jim to his door. When it opened, he bade Jim a quiet, “good night,” then retreated back inside.

Jim got a parting view of Spock returning to the table, hands immediately reaching for his very own Vulcan version of a pear tree.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days 2 through 4

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me  
2\. Two Turtle Doves

After such an intense reaction - and yes it was intense, for a Vulcan - to the first day’s gift, Jim was glad he had opted for something slightly silly and more practical for day two.

Obviously turtledoves were not an option. Even something aviary in nature was a no go because it seemed like three-quarters of the damn carol had birds in it. That would get old fast. And messy, if Jim had decided to get anything living.

After thinking and thinking and thinking, Jim had all but given up. It wasn’t until Bones, bless his Southern heart, had suggested giving Spock a pair of something - something useful Jimmy - while putting on exam gloves that things clicked.

Jim had a very pronounced Aha! moment.

Spock’s hands were a powerful instrument; a tool for discovery or even a weapon when necessary. And yet, they were also vulnerable. They were so sensitive to touch and heat, required greater circulation than humans. They were in space. Space was cold. Not to mention, typically one associated Christmas with winter. So it was only logical to think of...

“Gloves, Sir?”

“Rand, don’t ask questions. Just do what you’re told.”

Jim had taken his yeoman into his confidence. Well, sort of. She knew Jim wanted her to give Spock a pair of gloves while on shift - he really wanted to see Spock’s reaction...and if he’d try them on - but she didn’t know why.

Thank God.

“When would you like me to deliver them?”

Jim’d thought about that, wanting things to be settled before Spock’s daily readings were interrupted. “Around 1100 hours sounds good.”

“Yes sir.” Rand took the flat package and was almost out the door before Jim stopped her.

“Oh, and Yeoman? This is our little secret. Remember that.”

“Of course, Sir.” She gave Jim a tiny smirk then left.

\--

“Commander Spock,” Rand timidly approached Spock at his station. Jim always found it hilarious how other crew members feared/worshipped Spock. But it made sense. Jim certainly seemed on the verge of worship and other things towards Spock.

“Yes Yeoman Rand?” Spock turned his full attention on the blond woman. Jim tried to discreetly watch out of the corner of his eye.

“This is for you.” She held out the box, which Spock seemed to snatch up immediately.

Looks like he’s anxious for his next gift.

“Then you are the one...” At Rand’s confused expression, Spock hastily tried to explain. “My Secret -”

Oh shit, Jim couldn’t let Spock finish that thought. “Spock, care to share with the rest of the class?”

It took a while for Spock to pull his gaze away from Rand, but once he did there was the cutest look, almost sheepish, as the Vulcan realized he was being unproductive while on duty. “Negative Captain.”

Jim nodded and pretended to return to his work. But he was still focused in on what Spock would do now. Wait until shift was over to see what was inside? Or let curiosity get the better of him?

It seemed Spock’s human side won out when Jim saw Spock lift the lid ever so slowly.

“Two woolly mittens?” Spock spoke loud enough for about half of the crew to hear.

“What was that Mr. Spock?” Trying to be stern was tough work when Jim was fighting off laughter.

“Nothing, Sir.” The box was slipped into a small compartment; out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

Seriously, Jim was going to have to find some excuse to get Spock into the cold and into those gloves. He bet they’d even match that god-awful sweater Spock always wore on leave.

\--

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
3\. Three French Hens

This was a tough one, Spock. There’s just no way I’d get you three chickens, especially when you don’t even eat meat. So instead, enjoy these three ches’lintak. The word kind of looks like chicken...in French...maybe...sort of.  
\- Your Secret Santa

Jim had left the three plants somewhat hidden in the ship’s arboretum, with the note attached of course. He knew Sulu frequented his plants often, as it was a favorite hobby of the Helmsman, and hoped he would discover the foreign plants and alert Spock.

But it was getting late and Jim had yet to hear anything from either man. Deciding he could wait no longer, Jim made his way to the nursery.

It was a far walk, the room housing Sulu’s collection on the opposite side of the ship, so Jim had a lot of time to think about things. Mostly Spock, and how their rocky start had changed into something meaningful and really...important to Jim. It hadn’t been easy. Spock rebuffed a lot of Jim’s advances in the beginning. But as they worked side by side and truly got to know each other, Jim found there was no one - on Earth or elsewhere - that he cared for more. Not even Bones. And while the thought scared the shit out of Jim, it also thrilled him too. Not because Jim thought he stood a chance - no he doubted Spock would ever return those types of feelings. Seemed illogical of him - but because when he was with Spock he felt important, needed, wanted. Like he belonged. Like family.

His thoughts carried him to Sulu’s greenhouse faster than he realized. Jim was about to step inside when voices drifted out to meet him. He kept safely behind the corner, unable to see but hear perfectly well who was talking.

“Are you responsible for these?” He’d recognize that voice anywhere. Spock had finally found day three.

“No?” Sulu sounded scared, as if worried Spock would reprimand him for having the Vulcan plant. Jim didn’t understand why others couldn’t quite tell the difference between normal Spock and angry Spock. His voice always sounded different when he was; gruff, a little deeper, and very intense.

“Then may I inquire as to how these came to be in your greenhouse?” See, Jim could tell, without seeing him, that Spock was dying to know who the plants were from. There was the tiniest bit of whine in there.

“I have no idea Mr. Spock. I just got here right before you did.”

“Very well.” And there. Spock was disappointed.

Jim heard shuffling noises for a few minutes, followed by Sulu’s, “I may not know where they came from, but I do know how useful the ches’lintak are. Did you know -”

“I am aware of their medicinal properties, Mr. Sulu.” Well now, that sounded a bit condescending. And defensive. As if Spock wouldn’t know about his own planet’s flora. Please.

“Yeah, okay. Then you know how important they are.”

“Indeed.” Spock sounded closer to the door. Jim assumed he was getting ready to leave. Jim figured it was time for him to go too.

“Then why are you taking them with you?”

Huh. Jim paused. Why was he?

“Mr. Sulu. I am sure you are aware that the ches’lintak are cultivated in a harsh, desert climate. The optimal environment for their growth can be found in my quarters, where the controls are set to the temperature and humidity of Vulcan.”

Spock sounded so close now, his retreat never stopping as he spoke. Jim inched back, afraid any second Spock would walk through the door and see him standing there. Eavesdropping.

“You do know the arboretum is equipped to handle any type of plant. We’d just need to set it up in a different location and alter the environmental controls .” Sulu was practically yelling after Spock as he withdrew.

“Did you have a point, Mr. Sulu?” Ok, now Spock sounded angry.

“...I guess not.”

Jim ran down the corridor as fast as he could to avoid being caught by Spock. After making it back to his place undetected, chest heaving and stitch in his side, Jim smiled.

Spock wanted those damn chicken plants all to himself.

\--

On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
4\. Four calling birds

He’d snuck into Spock’s room again to plant the fourth day’s gift. Only this time, Jim planned on being in and out as fast as he could. This gift was a little different in that it was, in a way, interactive. So Jim needed to get back to his room quickly to make sure everything was set up correctly.

Placing the four prototypes on Spock’s desk, Jim set them to an open frequency and hurried back to his. He was kind of excited about this foursome. Starfleet hadn’t even finished signing off on the use of the new technology but Jim had found a way. He knew it was only a matter of time before Starfleet upgraded theirs, then every crew member would walk around carrying one. Until then, Spock would get the chance to test them out early. Maybe even make improvements for practical use.

He sat at his desk, behind his computer, and waited. And waited and waited and waited. Seemed a trend for Jim to hang around and wait for his XO to find his gifts. While it ate up free time Jim could be using being productive, he found he didn’t mind so much. It was exciting, anticipating when Spock would receive his presents and how he would react.

After what seemed like hours - but was probably only minutes - Jim heard the swish of Spock’s door and muffled footsteps through the speakers on his computer. He waited until the sounds got louder - hearing a rustling noise and wondering if Spock was changing - indicating that Spock was close to his desk and consequently the gift. Jim sent the command to begin playing the song, the music audible through the channel he’d set Spock’s gift to.

“On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me four calling birds...”

“Computer,” Spock’s voice was confused. “Trace origin of transmission.” Spock was no dummy. He wanted to figure out the location so he could discover who was behind his gifts.

Luckily, Jim was no dummy either. “Origin of transmission cannot be located.”

Jim heard what sounded like a sigh, something Spock would never let slip in front of anyone. “Computer, besides myself, who else has entered my quarters?”

Laughing, Jim began typing out a response for the computer to dictate.

“Sorry Spock.” The feminine voice sounded comical. “I’m afraid it won’t be that easy to figure out who I am.”

“How are you currently communicating with me?”

“Ahh, communication. Isn’t it a wonderful thing?”

There was another sigh, though this time more suppressed. “If you will not willingly offer an explanation -”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Spock.” Jim laughed as the computer spoke. Then realized the error of using a phrase he commonly said to Spock when the Vulcan questioned -

“Panties?”

Shit.

“I suggest you take a closer look at your desk, Mr. Spock. The answer to your question lies there. Literally.”

“Very well.”

Jim could tell the minute Spock discovered the four communicators, as his voice became louder, clearer.

“How do you like your calling birds?”

“These are not regulation communicators.”

Jim noticed Spock did nothing to hide the surprise in his voice. He didn’t know if it was because Spock felt comfortable talking to what he perceived as a non sentient being or what.

“Nope, they’re not. These babies are still being tested out for use in Starfleet, figuring out if they’re viable in the field.”

“Fascinating.” Jim felt a small pang of regret that he could not see Spock’s face as he said that one word. “What are the prominent features with these models?”

“Well, now. You see that bright yellow one?”

“It is hard to miss.”

“That’s the point. It’s an underwater comm. Vibrant yellow to be easily seen, standard messages preprogrammed - because obviously you can’t actually talk underwater - with the option of programming individual messages. It can withstand depths up to 200 meters.”

“Such a device would be greatly utilized.”

“Yup. So would that black one. See it?” When Spock informed Jim that yes I do see it he continued. “Long range. The idea is if a crew member is separated, stranded, or even possibly captured and too far away from the ship for normal transmission, this bad boy amps the signal  
so it can be received from a distance greater than any standard comm can achieve - though just how far is still yet to be determined. Plus it acts as a homing signal as well. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“Now that small one,” Jim assumed Spock had picked up the comm to further inspect. “Ultra compact to be hidden on the body - just in case. All one has to do is tap to activate.”

“Interesting.”

Spock may have been monosyllabic but Jim could tell how excited the Vulcan was by the new technology.

“The last one is my favorite, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Looks rather plain, right? But it’s far from. By far it’s the most fascinating comm I’ve ever seen.”

“What purpose does it serve?”

“That comm system was developed especially with telepaths in mind. Spock, do you know what that means?”

“I believe I do. But I also believe you will inform me of it anyway.” Jim could almost hear the not-quite-smile in Spock’s words.

“It means those with telepathic abilities can form a type of link with the device, communicate through thoughts alone. Imagine the possibilities!” Jim was frustrated the computer’s voice lacked the enthusiasm Jim felt.

“A most ingenious device.” Which was high praise from Spock.

“Do you like it?”

“I am not displeased with the gift.”

“Is that a yes, Spock?”

A pause and then, “Yes. It is.”

“Sweet.”

Jim cut off transmission and sat back in his chair, inordinately pleased with himself for getting Spock to admit he liked something.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days 5 through 8

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
5\. Five golden rings

I know you have no need or desire for gold That knowledge is of the utmost importance to you. That for you, the wisdom garnered through studying the teachings of your people is worth more than any precious metal I could give you.

“Wisdom outweighs any wealth.”  
\- Sophocles

“Enter.” Spock called out, somewhat distractedly.

“Whatcha reading?” Jim bit back the smile as he approached, Spock’s nose almost literally buried in a thick, animal hide bound book.

“This book is one in a set of five containing the complete works of Surak.”

“Haven’t you already learned all that stuff before?”

“Indeed I have. This compilation, however,” and Spock gestured to the other four books spread out on his table, “is one of the original productions of Surak’s discourses on the importance of logic and its purpose in maintaining strict mental discipline. It is written in High Vulcan and considered amongst many to be a rarity. A collector’s item if you will.” All of this was said without Spock once looking up.

“So kind of like a first edition, huh?”

Spock looked up and regarded Jim. “An over simplification but accurate.” He looked back down at his book.

“What do you mean, an oversimplification?”

“Jim,” Spock placed a marker in the page he was reading and closed the book. “You could not possibly begin to understand the significance this volume has among Vulcans.”

“No?” He was pretty sure he did.

“When Vulcan was destroyed, so too were tomes of our greatest intellectual works of literature. Hundreds upon thousands of books containing original works, written by Surak himself, lost. To have such a thing now is...” Spock trailed off.

“I don’t understand. Haven’t you always had these? You’re sounding a bit sentimental.”

“These books have just recently come to be in my possession.”

“Really? How? I don’t remember you picking anything up lately.”

“They were given to me by my Secret Santa.” There was something strangely adorable about Spock saying Secret Santa, to the point where no amount of biting his cheek could keep Jim from smiling.

“Sounds like you really like the gift, Spock.”

“I do.” No forcing him to admit it this time. “Jim, I wish to properly thank the person responsible for bestowing such things upon me. If only he would reveal himself so I could.”

It sounded like Spock was pleading with him as if he knew Jim was his Santa. Jim wanted very much to hop up and down and admit It’s me! but knew it would have to wait.

“I’m sure whoever it is will tell you on the final day.” The thought made Jim nervous. Especially because of what he had planned for day twelve.

“Very well.” The disappointment rang through the room.

“Should I go so you can get back to your studying?”

“That is unnecessary. Is it not time for our chess match?”

“Sure it is. I just thought you’d prefer to look at your books instead.”

The look Spock gave Jim was so piercing it made Jim’s stomach flutter with a weird sense of excitement. “Negative, Jim. Our time spent playing chess is important to me as well.”

And that kind of sounded like a declaration of sorts. But before Jim could dwell on it, Spock was clearing away his five new books and setting up the chess board.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
6\. Six geese a laying

Another bird day. It had taken more creativity to figure out what to do for day six. Jim couldn’t stop thinking about eggs. But since he’d never seen Spock so much as touch one before, Jim ruled out doing something stupid like making a six egg omelet and bringing it to Spock in bed. For them to share...

It’s funny how thinking about making eggs for Spock actually led Jim to his answer. Cracking eggs...Growing up, for Easter, Jim had always gotten small plastic eggs that opened to reveal candy and other small toys inside. And even though the eggs were for a completely separate holiday, it was - in Jim’s opinion - a pretty clever way to incorporate the song into things.

Getting the same type of plastic eggs he’d had as a kid was an impossibility. He was in space and getting something like that sent from Earth would be ludicrous. Lucky for Jim, he’d stumbled upon some weird plant - or was it a rock? - thing on the last planet they visited. Egg shaped. That opened when you pressed its top. It was perfect.

Each egg had something small but hopefully special inside.

1\. Incense (he knew Spock was running low...don’t ask how)  
2\. Vulcan tea bags (Spock was forever drinking tea, the spicy scent of it always seemed to add to how good he smelled)  
3\. a Kal-toh puzzle (Jim had never seen anyone actually do the puzzle before, but he hoped to change that)  
4\. Instructions on how to add Plomeek soup to the replicators (which had taken Jim awhile to get right with the programming side of things so Spock better eat it ever day)  
5\. Woolly hat and  
6\. Woolly scarf (to match the mittens of course; Jim just couldn’t help himself)

\--

On the sixth day, Jim had all the eggs packed up in a basket (and if it just so happened to be in the shape of a goose, Jim couldn’t help that. Because, really, how do you resist?) He’d had to make a quick detour past sickbay because Bones wouldn’t stop comm’ing him, harassing him it was time to update his allergy info. Jim had the basket in one hand, swinging back and forth as he walked. Once he got to sickbay though, Jim realized he didn’t want anyone asking questions or tying him back to the present if Spock started asking around.

On impulse, Jim hid it where he normally stashed his contraband; the liquor cabinet in Bone’s office. Jim knew the doctor wouldn’t be there - he was waiting for Jim by one of the biobeds - so Jim didn’t worry about his friend witnessing the hiding.

It wasn’t Jim’s fault he forgot all about the basket. Oh no. Blame rested solely on his best friend jabbing him stupid with hypos, testing for allergies.

And so when, while Jim and Spock were busy writing up reports together in Conference Room #2, he heard Bones’ cussing start up, he had no idea what was going on.

“Damnit, Jim.” Bones slammed the basket down on the table. “I’m a doctor not some fucking farmer for God’s sake.”

Shit.

Jim turned slightly away from Spock. “And why are you telling me this?” He hoped the Vulcan missed his pleading eyes, the ones that begged Bones to play along.

Judging by the slight relaxing of jaw muscles as the doctor stopped grinding his teeth, Bones understood. “So, uh, tell your crew to stop leaving their shit in my medical bay.” He began to walk away but turned to call over his shoulder. “That’s for you Spock. By the way.”

Spock waited until Bones had left before pulling the hideous basket closer and drawing nearer to Jim’s side. “Jim?”

“Yes Spock?”

“What is the meaning behind this?” It didn’t sound angry or even curious. Mostly, oddly, amused.

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
7\. Seven swans a swimming

“Whatcha eating?” Jim had the rare opportunity to catch Spock enjoying something; eyes shut and mouth curved ever so slightly at the corners. Of course, once Jim spoke, Spock adjusted his lack of self control.

“This is a flower known as -”

“Wait. You. Eat. Flowers?” He injected the question with as much shock as possible since he wasn’t supposed to know anything.

“Yes Jim. Many flowers are considered delicacies to Vulcans. While I had not tried this particular species before, I find its taste to be palatable.”

AKA delicious.

“Who knew Birds of Paradise would be so yummy?”

“Birds of Paradise?”

“Yeah,” Jim waved a hand at the blossoms currently floating in a bowl of water in front of Spock.

“I was given to believe they were called Crane Bird flowers.”

Yup, Jim had done that on purpose, to try and throw Spock off his trail. “Oh, I’m sure that’s another name for them too.”

A little bird told me you enjoy eating flowers. Instead of Swans, how about some tasty Crane Birds?

“I see.”

“Hey! There are seven of them! Does that mean...” He trailed off, knowing Spock could surmise the meaning behind Jim’s conclusion.

“Yes. A gift from my Santa.”

“Cool.”

“Would you like to try one, Jim?” Spock plucked a petal and held it up.

Not really, he didn’t. But since Spock was offering...”Sure.”

To his utter amazement, Spock extended his hand towards Jim’s mouth and waited. When Jim opened it up, Spock lightly placed the delicate petal on Jim’s tongue.

It was so trusting, so...intimate, Jim made a happy, throaty noise.

“Do you also find it to be palatable?”

Jim bit down, only to have bitterness flood his mouth..

“Best flower I ever tasted.”

Also the first. And last.

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
8\. Eight maids a milking

“Would you be amenable to a game of chess, Jim?” The softly spoken words snapped Jim out of his thoughts. Good thing too, because they verged on murderous.

“A game of chess would be lovely right now.” Jim stood from his Captain’s chair and silently followed behind Spock’s form, both making their way toward the lift.

Once they were alone, Spock turned towards Jim. “You are perturbed.”

With a not so very mature huff, Jim replied, “You’re damn right.”

“What is wrong, Jim?”

“Doesn’t it seem odd and, well, stupid that Starfleet is asking us to leave Citalopria? A Federation planet just barely surviving a Klingon attack and in desperate need of aid in any and all forms...yet, we’re being pulled to check out some unknown planet that may or may not have dilithium stores?”

“Dilithium crystals are critical to the proper maintenance of not only Enterprise, but ships Fleet wide. It is logical to go in search of them.”

Jim stared at Spock, frustrated and hurt the Vulcan was agreeing with their new orders.

"I can't believe you're siding with them."

"You misunderstand me, Jim." Spock spoke hoping to keep Jim from really getting riled up.

"Oh? You think it's a good idea to leave these poor, defenseless people to a ravaged land and future attack. What am I not understanding?"

Jim felt a warm weight on his shoulder. It was a moment before he realized it was Spock's hand. The uncommon show of comfort, the conciliatory gesture touched Jim deeply, sent a rush of warmth that originated from Spock's hand and seeped into every part of him.

"I do not think it is a good decision. Merely logical for a reconnaissance mission. However, I do not believe it is necessary for Enterprise to go. In fact, to borrow your words, I believe it to be a stupid idea as well."

Jim grinned, still frustrated but feeling better knowing Spock backed him up. "It just sucks," Jim started as the lift door opened and they made their way to Spock's room. Somehow a strange understanding between them existed that they were now to meet in the Vulcan's quarters.

“I hate being stuck in a situation doing something I know is wrong. I wish I could say to hell with the orders and do what I feel, what I know, is right.” He walked, footsteps near pounding as he let out the anger.

“Strange.”

“What’s strange?”

“That you wish for something that already is.” Spock eyed him casually but Jim did not miss the gleam in those deep brown eyes.

“What do you mean, already is, what are you trying to say?”

“Was it not your inherent disregard for following orders that led you to becoming Captain of this vessel?”

Jim stared at Spock, mouth slightly open in surprise. “Hey! That doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because...because...I don’t know why. It just doesn’t.” And no, he was not being petulant.

“I see.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m frustrated because there’s not an easy way to get around these orders. And I know I’m right Spock. We should not be leaving Citalopria for this new planet.

“If it is any consolation, I am sure you will find a way to ‘break the rules’ and accomplish that which you desire.” The look Spock gave him was so soft and gentle.

Why did Jim have to read into those words? Imagine Spock wasn’t just talking about their new orders?

“Shall we?” Spock opened his door and let Jim enter first.

“Yeah.” Jim automatically made his way to the table where Spock’s chess set always held a prominent spot.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Spock, as the Vulcan whose eyes were focused on Jim as well, sat down and reached for one of his pawns. When his fingers grasped it, Spock looked down, a hint of surprise evident in the slight O of his lips.

“This is not a regulation chess piece, Jim. What...?”

“Why do you always ask me like I’ll know?” God it was hard not laughing at Spock when he looked so confused and adorable.

“Because, you...” Spock shook his head rather than finish. “No matter.” He picked up the piece, looked, smelled, and oh sweet Jesus licked the very tip of the pawn. “Chocolate.”

Jim was a little too distracted in staring as Spock licked the pawn again. “Isn’t it true, he managed to say at last, “that Vulcans get drunk off chocolate?”

“Vulcans may experience inebriation after the consumption of chocolate, yes.”

Jim was pretty sure his gulp was audible when Spock bit the tip off, chewing slowly before swallowing.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea then?”

“I am capable of monitoring the state of my mental and physical well being. I will stop before I am compromised.” There was hardly any of the first pawn left.

“You must really like chocolate.” About as much as I like watching you like it.

“Indeed. Almost as much as Crane Bird flowers.” Spock took another bite. It was practically pornographic the way he ate that small piece of chocolate.

“Oh,” was all Jim managed to spit out.

After finishing the pawn, Spock spoke again. “This is a most unusual choice for the day’s gift. I understand the use of pawns. There are eight of them. The use of chocolate, however, I do not comprehend.” But I like it, Spock’s eyes seemed to say to Jim.

Jim was about to say - Because it’s milk chocolate. Eight maids a milking. Get it? - but realized Spock was probably hoping for that exact thing to happen. No doubt he knew it was milk chocolate and made the logical leap to why it was chosen for the day.

Spock was trying to trick Jim into giving himself up. “Maybe whoever has you couldn’t think of anything else for the eighth day?”

“That is your assessment of this gift?”

“Sure?” Jim eyed Spock, who had picked up a second pawn.

“Hmm...” A slow smile curled on Spock’s chocolate stained lips.

“Is that a smile?” Jim’s question only served to make Spock’s smile grow. Jim sucked in a breath, air seemingly short in supply at the sight of Spock full on smiling. “I think you’re drunker than you realize.”

Spock tried denying it, Jim laughed, and chess was completely forgotten about that night. It was the best time he’d spent with the Vulcan to date.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have NO IDEA how the same chapter got posted multiple times instead of the chapters i intended. oops? hopefully this is all fixed now.

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
9\. Nine ladies dancing

The ninth day, in Jim’s opinion, was one of the more crucial in his effort to engender the true spirit behind Christmas. It had taken so long for him to figure everything out; to discover the existence of and accumulate everything he needed for the gift. Jim knew Spock would be surprised, that he would love it. And he hoped to God Spock would show it. Jim wanted nothing more than to see Spock’s face light up with love and adoration when he saw what nine ladies dancing meant.

He’d had plans to get everything set up early on the ninth day, maybe even sneak into Spock’s while the Vulcan was in his bathroom attending to his morning ablutions. But all his carefully laid plans got shot to hell with the new orders from Fleet. Because now instead of being safely in orbit around Citalopria, they were headed to an unknown planet at maximum warp. And Jim had to prep the away team - which consisted of him, Spock, Bones, and Ensigns Walter and Gildroy - before they beamed down planet side. He had no time beforehand and prayed he’d have enough later, to give Spock his nine ladies.

\--

Of course - of fucking course - Jim should’ve realized the simple, standard reconnaissance mission Fleet had promised would be anything but. For a planet that was deemed uninhabited, there sure seemed to be a lot of, well, whatever these creatures were.

Tall, over seven feet, blood red skin and large milky eyes the size of Jim’s fist, the aliens looked threatening as hell. But when the team beamed down amidst a group of walking whatever-they-weres, the aliens merely reached out scaly arms - the ends of which were covered in long slender tentacle like things which Jim assumed were similar to fingers - and ghosted over Jim’s and his crew’s faces.

He’d felt an overpowering tingle, a brush that went deeper than skin, wash over him. It wasn’t that unpleasant. Not great but not bad. The same could not be said for Spock who visibly flinched when the alien touched him.

As the crew stumbled away from the eerie unblinking eyes, Spock whispered in Jim’s ear. “They are a race of telepaths. Far superior to any I have come across. My attempts at blocking them were futile as they broke through my mental barriers as though they were paper.”

Jim didn’t completely grasp the significance, but judging by Spock’s terrified look, he knew it was bad. Really bad.

Apparently, though, Jim didn’t know the true meaning of the word: bad. Not really. Not until they went searching in a cave that apparently served as some kind of holy land for the aliens and they got mad. More than mad. The universal translator wasn’t perfect, but it got the message across; that the aliens wanted Jim and his crew dead. That they would use Jim as an example of what happens to those that desecrate sacred ground. When the tallest of the angry red beings grabbed Jim’s head in a vice like grip and lifted him up, toes not even skimming the ground, Jim got an image so vivid, so real of just how he was to be tormented. Jim was so afraid he pissed himself, body unable to control itself in the wake of the mental onslaught.

He could hear himself scream. The pain of the intrusion on his brain was too painful, too unbearable and he knew that it bordered the threshold of what was physically and mentally possible to withstand. Jim managed to open his eyes and locked onto Spock - who was shaking and trying to fight off the other aliens holding him and the rest of the crew back.

If there’s one thing I regret, he thought, it’s not telling you how much you mean to me.

Because Jim was able to admit to himself, as he very literally saw his death unfold behind his eyes, that he loved Spock. More than he thought possible and he’d never get to tell him. Because Jim was going to die. On this God forsaken planet that proved not to have even the tiniest trace of dilithium crystals.

Spock he mouthed the name, hoping to convey his feelings, his thoughts. But the world around him was fading, black tinged with the red of blood. And he knew it was over.

I love you.

\--

Jim opened his eyes, slowly blinking away the shock of light that hit him like a punch to the face. He was disoriented, confused. Jim thought he was dead. And yet, here he was, in sickbay. How -

“Jim.”

He instantly recognized the voice, though it was gruff and tired and maybe even a little pained.

“Spock?”

“You are awake.” There was relief in those words, Jim heard it loud and clear.

“Duh.” He’d meant to say something else, something like those three little words but words seemed to escape him.

There was Spock, currently standing over Jim, paler than usual. A bit gaunt, hair unkempt and uniform wrinkled. What happened?

“I am...most gratified at your recovery.” Spock closed his eyes and bowed his head, placed both hands over Jim’s - which were resting over his stomach - and inhaled deeply.

“Me too.” His fingers itched to grasp onto Spock, but before he could tell his body to respond to his brain’s command, Spock removed them.

“You have been unconscious for 5.4 days, Jim.” Spock stepped back. “You nearly died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” Something unrecognizable flashed across Spock’s features. “It is not your fault.”

“I know, but still.”

“If anyone is to blame, it is those responsible for redirecting us.” Spock’s fist was clenched, knuckles gone white.

“Hey.” Jim reached out his hand and with the barest of touches, placed his hand atop Spock’s. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

The only sound audible for several seconds was the beeping of Jim’s vitals as the two regarded one another.

“How do you know I am the one that saved you?”

“I don’t know, just do. You’re always coming to my rescue. It’s one of the reasons why I...admire you so much.”

Spock’s fist slowly uncurled.

“You should be thanking yourself, Jim.”

“What?”

Spock sat down in the chair beside Jim’s bed. Thank God too because he looked so exhausted, Jim feared Spock would collapse under his own weight at any second. “It was obvious the alien used its psionic abilities on you. To be forced to witness such a thing...I could not help. I was restrained, both mentally and physically. As you lost consciousness, something you did, something you thought startled the alien so much that he dropped you.”

Jim couldn’t precisely remember what he was thinking, only that it was about Spock. And love. But why that should affect his tormentor so, Jim had no idea.

“What about the others?”

“Your attacker’s behavior proved a useful distraction. I was able to extricate myself, reach my phaser and fire upon them. Once free of their influence, I contacted Mr. Scott who beamed us up.”

Spock’s retelling of the events sounded too simple. Too easy. It sounded like he was leaving something out.

“And thank Christ we got away when we did.” Bones, who had just entered the private room, strode forward, tricorder in hand. “Another few minutes and you would’ve been dead, Jim.” The reading must have been good because the doctor smiled. “How ya feelin, kid?”

Jim shrugged. He didn’t feel too bad. A little fuzzy in the head, but nothing serious. He could hardly believe he was out cold for five days -

“I missed Christmas!” God, he sounded pathetic even to his own ears. But he had been so looking forward to the big day.

“Negative, Jim.”

“But you said I’ve been out for five days!”

Bones gave Jim a wry smile. “You think we’d be celebrating while you were half dead on a biobed? C’mon.”

Jim wrinkled his nose a bit at that. Why wouldn’t they? It was Christmas. He wasn’t the only one excited for it.

“You underestimate the attachment your crew holds for you. Knowledge of your fondness for the Terran holiday is common. No one wished to engage in frivolity while you suffered.” Spock stated it so matter of fact-ly. As if Jim should’ve expected it.

But he hadn’t. To know his crew put off Christmas for him...well, it made Jim feel really good.

Another thought occurred to Jim.

“What about the Secret Santa?”

“We postponed it,” Bones said as he stuck Jim - surprisingly gently - with a hypospray. “The minute we got you stabilized.”

“So,” he turned to look at Spock, “you didn’t get the rest of your gifts then?”

“Negative. I anticipate the return of my gifts now that you are awake and well.”

“Oh.”

Bones chuckled lightly. “If you continue to heal up like this, I’d say we’ll be able to have our Christmas party in about oh, three days.” The wink he threw Jim’s way was not subtle enough.

“Mr. Spock.” The comm beside Jim’s table whirred. “You’re needed on the bridge for a message from Starfleet, sir.”

“I will be there shortly.” Spock moved closer to Jim and directed his next words to him. “But I will return as soon as I can, Jim.”

A blush stole over Jim’s cheeks, pleased Spock wanted to come back. “Okay.”

When Spock was gone, Bones settled in the vacated chair. “Good God, Jim. You have no idea how lucky you are to have Spock.”

Jim just wanted to cut to the chase. “What really happened?”

“Well, what Spock said was mostly true. The alien did let you go unexpectedly. But that damn Vulcan failed to mention how he ripped his goddamn arm out of its socket trying to get to you. And when he got free...Jim. He fucking wasted those bastards.”

“You mean...”

“His phaser wasn’t set to stun.”

That didn’t sound like the Spock he knew. Vegetarian, pacifist, wouldn’t hurt a fly, Spock. As a Vulcan, he valued all life equally, saw killing as needlessly violent and avoided it at all possible costs. “Why would he do that?”

Bones gave Jim an exasperated look, sighed, and spoke. “Because, you idiot, he cares for you.”

“No he doesn’t. I mean, he cares for me in the capacity that an XO cares for his commanding officer, sure. But nothing more than that.”

“You are so thick sometimes.” Jim glared at his friend. “Have you ever known Spock to put up with anyone else’s crazy shenanigans?

“Hey!”

“And if you stop to think about it...” Bones grew serious, brow furrowing slightly. “He had to endure seeing his mother die. Right in front of him. He literally stood by, helpless, while she fell to her death. Can you imagine what that must’ve been like? I never could, not until I saw you; dying right before my eyes and me helpless as a child. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, stand by and know I was losing my best friend.

“But Spock...He just lost it. However crazy I felt, Spock was a hundred times worse. It’s like, he couldn’t stand to have it happen again; be witness to the death of someone he was so close to. I’ve never seen him like that. He was yelling, spitting with fury. He took each of those monsters out and I’m fucking glad he did. They deserved to die after what they did to you.”

Jim could do nothing but blink in surprise. “Bones.” McCoy looked up at Jim, eyes a little wet. “Come here.” He sat up in the bed and hugged his friend.

Bones tightened his arms around Jim tightly, briefly, then let go and continued. “And then when he melded with you -”

“He what?!” Jim drew back to take a closer look at Bones. Why hadn’t Spock shared that?

“Yeah, you were so messed up in your head. Spock went in to bring you back to sanity. But you should’ve seen him. Picked you up, all gentle like, as if you were a child. And he just cradled you to him, held your head and drifted off. To help you, I assume.”

Jim didn’t know, had no recollection. He wished he did though. The meld with Spock Prime had been so complex and overwhelming. What was it like with his own Spock? Just as intense?

“He never left your side unless he had to for ship’s duty.”

Oh God, Spock. How was it possible to love the Vulcan any more than he already did?

“Listen Bones, quick before Spock gets back. I need a favor.”

\--

“Jim, what are you doing out of bed?” Spock caught up to Jim, slightly hampered by a walking cane for his still slightly shaky walking.

“Bones gave me the okay, checked me out. Not for active duty, but to at least get the hell out of that stinking place.”

“Ah.” Spock fell into place beside Jim. “Are you retiring to your quarters?”

“Actually, I was on my way to your place. I wanted to see how your arm was feeling.”

Jim did not imagine the slight tinge of green on Spock’s cheeks. “My arm?”

Oh, so the Vulcan wanted to play dumb, did he?

They reached Spock’s door and Jim waited expectantly, almost demandingly, for Spock to invite him inside. “Would you care to join me, Jim?”

“Why thank you, Spock. I would.” He grinned and hobbled in first.

Once inside he turned, expecting to find Spock right behind him. Instead, he saw Spock stock still, staring wide eyed at the small partition separating the living space from the sleeping area.

“My mother.”

Jim had never heard Spock sound like that before, awe and wonder and just full of so much love. He couldn’t take his eyes off Spock - who alternately could not take his eyes off the nine antique framed photos of Amanda Grayson dancing; by herself, with Sarek...with Spock. They hung on the wall, a three by three grid, the first thing seen upon entering.

Jim walked back to where Spock stood, then stepped closer. “Nine ladies dancing, huh?”

“I did not know pictures like these existed.”

“Do you know where they were taken?”

Spock moved closer, side almost touching Jim’s. “When I was young, my father attended many Federation functions. He would bring my mother to the formal balls. She loved to dance but rarely indulged as it is not a common Vulcan practice. Those events provided her with an opportunity to enjoy her talents. She even taught me.”

“To dance?”

“Affirmative.”

“I wish I knew how.”

He felt Spock turn towards him. “You never learned?”

“No.” Jim didn’t particularly want to mention that his mother never wanted to dance with him. Not even during Chrismas. “She’s beautiful Spock.” He couldn’t stop from reaching out and tracing a finger around the two people dancing. Spock with his mother.

“Yes.” And Spock was doing the same, his finger so close to Jim’s. “She was beautiful.”

He stared as Spock slowly brushed his finger along Jim’s, the heat palpable and not nearly enough. He’d never been more mesmerized.

“I could teach you.”

“Huh?” Their fingers were still touching. An incredible sense of happiness flowed through Jim.

“To dance.”

“Right now?”

“If you are amenable to the suggestion.” Jim turned and saw exactly what he’d hoped to find upon giving Spock the ninth gift; love so warm in those all too human eyes. And all because of his mother.

“Yes.” They stood face to face and Jim held out his hands. “I’m assuming you’ll lead?”

“Naturally.”

Jim was about to grasp onto Spock’s awaiting hands when he realized he’d forgotten about Vulcan sensitivity. “Won’t it be, uh, too much contact?”

“I do not find physical contact with you to be unbearable Jim. Neither do I find it to be uncomfortable. I assure you, I want to teach you.”

“Okay.” He held onto Spock’s hand, his waist and couldn’t break eye contact as his skin came alive with the buzz of being so close to Spock.

They danced well into the night, long after Jim was too tired to continue - he found a way to keep going because there was no way he’d willingly stop being with Spock like this - until he could no longer hide his yawns and Spock walked him slowly to his quarters.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days 10 and 11

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
10\. Ten lords a leaping

“Hey Spock, this was taped to your door.” Jim held out a small envelope with the number 10 printed in large black ink.

“How convenient you should find it.”

That sassy Vulcan...

Jim smiled. Ever since day nine’s gift, or maybe because of it, Spock had been more open, more affectionate towards Jim. He liked it, felt special. Because Jim noticed it was only around him that Spock let down his guard and showed his more human side.

Even though Jim was sure Spock had guessed, hypothesized, estimated the likelihood, whatever, that Jim was the Vulcan’s Secret Santa, the fact that Jim had never out right admitted it left the tiniest flicker of doubt.

“Sure is.”

“May I open it?”

“What are you asking me for?” Jim handed the envelope over.

“Thank you Jim.” Spock radiated a frustrated amusement as he carefully opened day ten.

Jim watched as Spock’s eyes scanned over the note.

Your Vulcan heritage is important. That’s why I think others should have the opportunity to learn your Vulcan Martial Arts -

“Suss Mahn.” Spock said the words almost reverently.

\- Suss Mahn. Plus, it’s pretty bad ass. We’d all benefit from learning a few tricks from you. This coupon is good for a ten course class instructed by you. Teach those Security personnel a thing or two.

“Will you be attending the courses?”

“If it’s okay with you, I’d like to.”

Spock’s eyebrow went up. “You are the captain, on board this ship you may do as you please.”

Frowning, Jim replied, “I’m not like that. I’d never impose myself on anyone just because of my higher ranking. Of course I’d ask you before showing up.”

The look Spock gave Jim was so intense Jim felt his mouth go dry. “Jim, you will find there is very little I would deny you if you but asked.”

“Oh.” Jim gulped. “Cool. So, uh, can I come?” he flushed at the unintended double entendre.

“You may. I would very much like you to come.”

Jim left, hot and bothered, shortly after; feigning tired. It wasn’t until he settled into his bed that Jim realized Spock had never actually read the note aloud. And yet, Jim had responded as if Spock had.

Damnit.

Score one for Spock.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
11\. Eleven pipers piping

Jim walked by Rec Room #7 and heard music.

So Spock found his gift...

The most hauntingly beautiful music seemed to drift lazily through the open door. It amazed Jim to know how musically inclined the Vulcan was. He’d never have guessed Spock could play the lute if it hadn’t been for the older Spock mentioning it.

Jim stood in the periphery of Spock’s vision, enjoying how at peace Spock looked and how all in the area stopped to listen. Jim didn’t blame them. Spock was captivating like this; posture relaxed, agile fingers flying across the strings. Jim knew for a fact that Spock had not touched a lute, let alone listened to music, since his mother’s death. It did something funny to Jim - warmed his heart and made him cheese - to know Spock had returned to his less widely known hobby. Like he had done the universe a favor reintroducing Spock to the music he could produce so easily and well.

He was about to step into the room, go to Spock and allow himself the indulgence of uninhibited staring time; every pair of eyes was glued to Spock, Jim figured nobody would notice the hearts in Jim’s eyes. But before he managed to move, Jim wondered if maybe he shouldn’t. Since being taken off active duty, Jim found he’d been making up excuses to see Spock more and more. No doubt Spock was getting sick of Jim hanging all over him like some annoying kid.

So instead, Jim wandered back to his room feeling somehow lonely and bereft. As if he had some kind of claim, some right to Spock’s attention.

\--

“Jim?” He heard Spock call out, almost worriedly.

“Yeah, come on in, Spock.” There really wasn’t an explanation for why Jim felt so dejected, except that he hadn’t gotten as much Spock time as he’d liked. And that maybe Spock hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared about Jim’s absence.

“I have not seen you in over five hours.”

Sounded about right. Jim had holed up in Engineering doing menial tasks to keep him occupied. No one knew he was down there. If they did, no doubt it’d get back to Bones who’d throw one major hissy fit.

“So?”

“So...” Spock looked almost hurt. “I was concerned. Are you unwell?”

The Vulcan walked towards Jim, sitting down in one fluid motion. It caught Jim by surprise - since he was on his bed. They were now so close their thighs were touching. Nervous energy consumed Jim and he fought not to conversely move away or press closer to Spock.

“No, I’m fine.”

Spock’s brow furrowed. “Fine is not an adequate indicator for -”

“Sorry, I mean I am not unwell.” But Jim didn’t know if he was well either.

“That is fortunate.”

Jim felt Spock shift against his side and had the irrational thought that Spock was fidgeting. But since he’d never seen the Vulcan move with anything less than concise, purposeful movements, he disregarded it.

“Yup.”

He needed to focus on something other than the heat of Spock’s leg. His hands needed to be occupied with something or they’d do something stupid. Like grab hold of Spock. And then his lips would join in on the stupidity and kiss Spock. And let’s not even get started on his cock and all the purely idiotic things it wanted to do...But left with little options, Jim settled on picking off the nonexistent lint from his pants.

“It is fortunate because I have acquired tickets to the Vulcan Philharmonics.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Indeed. For the eleventh day I discovered a Vulcan lute with tickets for eleven performances.”

“That’s awesome, Spock. I hear the Vulcan Philharmonics is unsurpassed in its technical skill and beauty.”

“Jim, I received a pair of tickets for each of the performances.” Spock continued as if Jim had never spoken.

“Well sure, that makes sense. Your Secret Santa doesn’t want you going alone.” The idea of Spock taking someone to the concerts made Jim’s insides clench painfully.,

“Would you attend them with me?”

Jim could’ve sworn he felt the heat of Spock’s body intensify as the question was asked. And even more so when Jim nodded. “If you’re positive you want to waste the other tickets on me.”

“My time spent with you could never be a waste.”

Jim felt like he was floating in zero-g, weightless and blissful and slightly dizzy. It felt great.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...  
12\. Twelve drummers drumming

It was a mere half hour before the ship’s Christmas party. And Jim still hadn’t worked up the courage to go by Spock’s and not only give the Vulcan his last gift, but also reveal himself as Secret Santa. Because even though Spock basically knew already, the idea was nerve wracking. There was a difference between Spock already thinking he knew and Jim standing in front of the Vulcan of his dreams, confessing all. Because undoubtedly, Spock would ask how Jim got all of the gifts, how Jim had found out so much about not just Spock, but Vulcan culture in general. And for sure Spock would want to know why Jim had gone through all the trouble.

Jim probably changed at least ten times, each time finding something wrong with his outfit: too formal, too casual, too stuffy. On and on and on it went. Until he had more clothes on his floor than on his body. He stood in front of his mirror in only black boxer briefs and a white undershirt. Foolishly he wanted to look perfect for Spock - as if the Vulcan would care - when Jim gave him day twelve.

Of course figuring out a way to get the gift over to Spock’s was another thing to worry about. Those suckers were heavy.

“Jim.” Spock’s voice at his door startled Jim so much he jumped. “Your door is locked. Is anything the matter?”

Oh fuck.

“No, everything’s fine!” Jim yelled as he hastily found a pair of sweats. “Just getting - oof - ready!” he stumbled and almost fell getting his leg through.

“May I enter?”

“Yeah, hang on.” He scrambled to find something to cover Spock’s gift, settling on stray clothing. Jim hoped it concealed enough to keep Spock from figuring out what he was getting. “Okay, come on in.”

The lock disengaged and Spock walked inside.

And Jim snorted. Rather loudly and embarrassingly.

“Jim?”

“Oh my God Spock. What are you wearing?”

“Is it not customary to wear a Christmas sweater to the function being held on deck 7?”

Spock looked down at his sweater, completely nonplussed. He clearly had no idea that no one - at least under the age of 70 - would ever be caught dead in a sweater like that. Bright green, it had the fattest cat Jim had ever seen. In a Santa outfit. Riding in a sleigh. Being pulled by eight reindeer. And to top it off, the phrase “Meowy Christmas” was stitched in gold above the picture.

“Who told you that?” He couldn’t manage to stop laughing.

“Mr. Scott informed me of the practice, as well as provided the proper attire.”

Ooh, when Spock found out Scotty was messing with him there’d be hell to pay.

“C’mere Spock.” The Vulcan moved instantly in front of Jim. “You don’t wanna wear that. Have you got on anything underneath?” When Spock nodded, Jim smiled. “Good. Let’s get you out of this.”

And without thinking, like how Jim usually worked whenever in Spock’s presence, Jim tugged up the ugly-as-sin sweater.

Halfway through pulling it over Spock’s head, Jim realized what he was doing. “Shit Spock. Sorry. I should’ve, uh, asked. Or, um, gave you more of a warning.” He pulled the rest of it off quickly, ruffling Spock’s perfectly coiffed hair and enjoying the sight a little too much.

“Do not worry, Jim.” Spock took the sweater from Jim’s hands and folded it, set it on Jim’s bed. As if it wasn’t out of the ordinary. As if Spock’s ugly sweater was welcome in the room. “What will I wear to the party now?”

Jim got caught up in staring at that Vulcan chest, covered in a tight black undershirt, showing off lean, cut muscles and what he wouldn’t give to get a closer look. Jim managed, just barely, to tear his gazes away long enough to see Spock watching him. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I inquired after what I should wear.”

“Oh, right. Well, you look good to me right now.” Oh boy, did he ever. Though maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

“Thank you Jim.” Spock delicately cleared off a space on Jim’s bed and sat down. “Will you be attending in that?” The look Spock gave seemed disapproving.

“No. I was trying to figure out what to wear when you stopped by.”

“Clearly.” Spock’s eyes swept the room.

“So I’ll just see you at the party then? Wouldn’t want to keep you.”

Jim expected Spock to stand and leave. So he was surprised when - after randomly turning in circles to look at his clothing options - he found Spock. Still sitting serenely on the bed.

“I will remain here until you are ready.”

“Um...”

That didn’t sound like a good idea. The thought of dressing in front of Spock had Jim suddenly feeling self conscious.

“If you require assistance, I offer my services.”

“Um..”

Really, it was like Spock purposely said things that could be misconstrued into something sexual.

Spock stood and wound his way through piles of clothes over to -oh shit he’s getting too close to the gift!

“May I suggest this shirt? It, I believe the saying is, really brings out the color of your eyes.”

Jim took the blue pinstriped button up from Spock’s hands, inwardly flailing. Spock had just complimented his eyes, right? Spock had to know what saying that implied.

“‘Kay.”

“And I believe you are rather fond of these trousers, correct?” Spock moved a few paces to the left and picked up Jim’s broken in jeans.

“Yeah...”

“Then, as you now have the clothing you require, I suggest you change.”

Spock turned, his back to Jim, to give some privacy. Jim was grateful for it. He was feeling a little wired after that weird exchange. How the hell did Spock know which pants were Jim’s favorite? Jim wanted to calm himself down a bit before leaving for the party, where he’d most likely drink too much, act like a jackass, then drunkenly tell Spock that yes he was the Vulcan’s Secret Santa and did Spock know Jim loved him?

“Excuse me Jim.” Spock’s sudden words startled Jim out of his reverie. “May I inquire as to why you are in possession of twelve Vulcan drums?”

Oh fuck my life.

Jim looked and saw all twelve drums, uncovered - clothes now on the ground - lined up along his wall. Figured Spock managed to select Jim’s outfit from the pile used to cover up the drums. That was just Jim’s luck.

“Surprise?” He’d managed to slip on his shirt but still had his sweats on when Spock turned to eye him. “I’m your Secret Santa.”

“I am not surprised, Jim.”

It was stupid to feel disappointed. Jim knew Spock had figured him out. “Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit. Jim, I have known since day one.”

How?

He must’ve actually voiced his shock because Spock responded.

“It seems illogical to claim,” Spock started as he neared Jim, “but on occasion I have noticed the blue of your eyes intensifies in saturation in direct correlation to your excitement.”

“What?’ God, Jim sounded like an idiot. But really, what?

Spock didn’t seem to mind Jim’s less than eloquent response, just continued to get right up in Jim’s personal space. “The very first instance was at your hearing for the Kobayashi Maru. When you stood and faced me, your eyes...I had never seen such a vivid blue before.” Spock stared at Jim, so close it was unnerving. “I have also noted the same phenomenon when you are set to a near impossible task, or discover a new life form previously unknown, or when you have me in checkmate. Your eyes, Jim, light up like sunlit ocean waters. They shone when you watched me open my first gift.”

Oh God. Spock sounded almost poetic. And was it strange that Jim liked it?

“Does that mean,” he blinked a few times, feeling self conscious again, “that you like my eyes?”

Spock was still so close, not breaking eye contact. “Yes, Jim. I find them to be very aesthetically pleasing.”

Oh. Well then. Jim smiled. “So all my hard work was ruined because of my eyes?”

Spock contemplated him for a few seconds. “There is also the matter of the outgoing transmissions logs to New Vulcan.” But... “And since there are only two on board in contact with anyone on New Vulcan, and I was not the one to send them, it was logical to deduce you had contacted my counterpart for information.”

Jim couldn’t believe Spock just happened across the logs. Because Jim had so carefully covered his tracks, deleted histories, and cleaned up anything that would lead back to him. There was no way unless Spock was...

“You went looking for records, didn’t you?” He glared, only slightly upset.

“Perhaps.” Because they were still so close, Jim saw the crinkling around Spock’s eyes; knew Spock was smiling even if his mouth didn’t move.

“Well, it’s too bad you’re only half right. All that snooping and you didn’t even get all the information.”

“Pardon me, Jim. To what are you referring?”

Jim laughed and stepped away from Spock, needing some breathing room to think. “You’re assuming when I contacted New Vulcan that it was only to speak to the other you.” He loved the way Spock tilted his head in confusion. “I also spoke with Ambassador Sarek.”

There was the smallest of gasps and then, “My father?” Spock, who Jim knew could stand at parade rest for hours, slunk to the ground and sat cross legged.

“You know, for a race that claims they feel no emotions, you Vulcans sure are sentimental bastards. Romantic too.” Jim plopped himself down across from Spock, not wanting to hover over him.

“Explain.”

So Jim did. All about talking, rather nervously, with Sarek - explaining his idea and being shocked out of his mind when Sarek approved. “I fear that since his mother’s death, Spock is not controlling but repressing his emotions. He must learn to adjust or face mental degradation.” Sarek told Jim of a house, the summer home in California Amanda made Sarek keep. There they stored the many items deemed too human to be displayed in their home on Vulcan. Photos, holovids, other sentimental trinkets from their courtship, marriage and beyond. And, Jim learned, there too was where they kept the many toys and items Spock loved but reluctantly “outgrew” much too soon for Amanda’s liking.

Sarek told Jim more, about Amanda’s preferences, Vulcan traditions, helped locate the ancient Surakian texts. He even helped push through the requests the Federation would’ve normally sluggishly sifted through.

“Why would he expend so much effort to assist you?”

Jim didn’t want to share that it had taken explaining to Sarek why he wanted to give Spock these things; that Jim had pretty much confessed all his feelings for his XO. So he just shrugged.

But Spock was persistent and seemed determined to get the truth from Jim.

“Why would you go through the effort to give me these items?” Spock’s voice was quiet, yet firm, leaving no question as to whether or not Jim could get away without answering.

“Because, Spock. You deserve it. Judging by your disdain for the holiday, I figured you’d never celebrated a Christmas before. So why not, you know? And with your mother and home planet gone...” Jim gingerly rested his hand on Spock’s knee. “I just wanted to do this for you. Give you something great.”

“Because you feel affection for me.” It wasn’t a question. Which meant Spock already somehow knew that too.

Blushing, Kirk asked, “How did you know?”

And now Spock was blushing. “You must understand, Jim, that it was an accident. I did not intend on finding out in such a manner. To do so is unbecoming of any well trained Vulcan.”

Spock was kind of rambling. Which would be kind of cute. If it wasn’t kind of worrisome. “How, Spock?”

“When I melded us.” Spock averted his eyes when Jim groaned an Oh shit. “It was not my intention to pry, merely heal. However, when I began to piece together the fragments of your mental awareness, the most incredible light drew me in. So much that resistance proved futile. Your mind called to me, Jim, and wrapped around me. I felt so very at peace inside your mind. Like I belonged. Because you,” and here Spock looked up at Jim through thick lashes, “care for me.”

“Aw, hell Spock.” Leave it to Jim to find a way to confess his true feelings to Spock even while unconscious. “If you were inside my head you know it’s more than that. You know I love you.”

There was a moment of silence in which Jim feared Spock was formulating a polite way of firmly rejecting Jim. It had him so scared. He’d never really felt like this for anyone before. So he’d never had the chance to put himself out there like that. The silence was suffocating Jim, a heavy pressure on his chest. He needed to get up and leave before Spock saw him break down.

“A moment, Jim.” Spock placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder and pushed, his super human strength forcing Jim back into a sitting position. “I wish to give you your present now.”

“My present?”

“Surprise,” Spock deadpanned. “I am your Secret Santa.

Jim choked out a laugh. “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

“I would give you this gift, Jim, despite not being skilled in the giving aspect.”

“It’s the thought that counts Spock.” Jim replied, somewhat perplexed, not really understanding the Vulcan’s hesitancy.

“Precisely. So if you find the giving of my gift inadequate, I wish for you to simply take what you want.” Spock lifted up and readjusted himself so he was kneeling.

“Huh?” Jim was about to scoot back, a little worried about what Spock was talking about.

“Be still, Jim.”

And he was. He sat still, watching as Spock moved closer and closer. Until their faces were centimeters apart. And Jim could feel Spock’s breath against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Jim.”

And before Jim could so much as blink, Spock was kissing him; sloppy and a bit rough. A bit...unskilled, as Spock had said. But it didn’t matter. Because Spock was kissing him. Jim moaned against rough lips and grabbed Spock’s shoulders, squeezing tight and urging him closer.

In his mind, Jim heard Spock - yes, t’hy’la, take from me - which only served to urge Jim on. His hands went to the back of Spock’s neck, pulled, and Jim was flat on his back, Spock on top with his hands braced on either side of Jim’s head. Each time Jim touched and kissed, he heard a mental - yes - and pressed on; tongue tracing Spock’s lips until they parted, until he could lick inside and explore the warm cavern of Spock’s mouth. Jim kissed Spock until his breath was gone.

He pulled back panting and saw Spock’s eyes had gone near black. Jim was about to say so when one of Spock’s fingers trailed Jim’s jaw line, up to the curve of his left ear.

“Your eyes are the most brilliant blue I have ever seen.” Spock’s voice was hushed as he loomed over Jim.

“Guess I’m a little excited.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the fucking century?

“Are you aware of the cultural significance twelve Vulcan drums hold for my people?” Spock continued to trace patterns on Jim’s face; little swirls and lines that tickled and tingled against his skin.

“Um...no.”

Spock’s finger stilled on Jim’s temple briefly. “You are lying.” But Jim heard amusement in the words. “I must confess. I have lied to you as well.”

“When?” Oh Christ, what if all this was a lie and Spock only kissed Jim because he knew Jim loved him and...

“Shh, Jim. My offence occurred three months ago. When I told you Vulcans do not feel love.” Spock’s finger returned to the same spot on the side of Jim’s face.

T’hy’la - Jim heard it in his mind again.

“What’s that mean?” He knew Spock had given him the word.

“In Vulcan it holds three distinct meanings to assign a person. That of friend, brother...lover. It is what I feel for you. T’hy’la is what you are to me.

A rush of love/devotion/longing crashed into Jim like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping and hard under Spock.

“You love me?”

“Indeed I do.”

Another influx of Spock’s feelings flowed, gentler this time, from Spock’s touch directly into Jim. It was a heady thing, and Jim worried he could get far too used to Spock doing this, showing him such raw, uninhibited emotions.

It would be stronger through a meld...or a bond

And before Jim knew what he was doing, his mouth opened and he spoke. “The other you told me about the drums. How they’re used in Vulcan bonding ceremonies.”

Spock smiled, actually smiled - without the aid of chocolate - at Jim. “Did he also mention it is customary for a male to gift the drums to the person he feels most compatible with him as a show of the desire to bond?”

No, he hadn’t actually. Seemed like no matter the reality, Spocks were sneaky. Jim shook his head and noticed Spock’s smile morph into a frown.

“I see. Then you are not interested in bonding with me.” Spock withdrew his hand and made to roll off Jim.

Jim placed a hand on each of Spock’s cheeks and held him there; knowing Spock could pull away if he wanted. But that he wouldn’t.

“I never said that. I would like to, you know, bond with you. That is, uh, some day. Maybe not today? But in the future. Maybe...not so distant future. But near. Soon.” He couldn’t stop babbling, but he wanted Spock to know that -

Spock’s lips were on Jim’s again, this time more sure, this time taking not giving, stealing Jim’s breath from his lungs.

“I wish to be one with you.”

Jim assumed Spock was referring to the bond. That is, until he felt Spock tug at Jim’s sweatpants.

“Whoa, Spock. I’m about to say something I normally never would but don’t you think it’s kind of fast?” When Spock simply raised an eyebrow and continued to try and pants Jim, he went a different route. “Okay. Okay. But, we don’t have time right now. The party starts soon. We can’t be late to that.”

An annoyed huff came from Spock. “But I have not yet given you all of your present.”

“No?” There was more?

“No. May I?” Spock’s fingers found the points on Jim’s face that were somewhat familiar now. He knew what Spock wanted.

“Yes.”

And as Spock began to speak, “my mind to your mind,” Jim felt Spock’s other hand reach down into his sweats and wrap strong fingers around his cock.

My thoughts to your thoughts-

Jim gasped, then -

He is in his own head, Spock’s voice calling, beckoning, a golden light leading him onward. Jim can tell the second he enters Spock’s mind. It is light and color and everything beautiful Jim recognizes in any world he’s ever visited. And somehow, without ever having experienced Spock’s mind before, Jim knows. He knows that he belongs here. More than he has ever belonged anywhere else before. It’s like coming home after a long journey; Spock’s mind, thoughts, emotions...everything welcoming him. He never wants to leave this place, this place in Spock’s mind where he is the most important thing to the Vulcan. He is more than a friend. Closer than a brother. Lover. Lover is not enough. Jim wants more. Wants it all. He can never hope to be complete without this.

Whatever this is.

-My mind, my body, every part of me desires you Jim. What you feel is our katra, our souls recognizing each other.

Distantly, Jim feels pleasure rocket through him and knows Spock is stroking him slowly.

-Spock.

-Let me, Jim

The intensity nearly overwhelms him. There is the pleasure of what Spock is doing to Jim physically and what Spock is doing to Jim mentally. All strokes and twists and tugs. Every movement, every thought is aimed at giving Jim white hot pleasure. Unlike anything he has ever experienced.

-No one will be able to do this for you but me, t’hy’la.

And Jim knows it’s true. Knows to his very core that all he’ll ever want is Spock.

That thought seems to please Spock, a ripple of excitement and lust touching lightly upon Jim’s mind. And he wants Spock to feel it too, this intensity. He thinks of the ways in which he can give Spock that pleasure. Thinks of his tongue slowly licking a path down the lean Vulcan stomach, of pink lips wrapping around a green flushed cock, of penetrating tight hot flesh.

-Jim!

His mental smile is wicked and Spock speeds up his strokes in response. The groan Jim lets out, is it audible or all inside his head?, is so wanton. He’s never let himself be so vulnerable before. And he knows Spock is pleased by this. Feels the happiness radiate through their meld.

Jim is so close, knows he will come with the barest of pressure. And Spock knows it too, senses it in the way Jim’s body arches off the floor, balls drawn tight. In the way Jim’s mind shudders and stilts, unable to focus on anything but the feel of Spock Spock Spock -

“Spock!”

Jim’s eyes rolled up in his head as he came harder than he thought possible. All over Spock’s hand and the nice button up shirt Spock picked out for him.

“Did you enjoy your gift, Jim?” Spock sounded as out of breath as Jim felt.

“Holy shit. That was...amazing. Amazing Spock.” He tried to sit up but felt too boneless. So he settled for staying exactly where he was. “Only...now I’ve gotta find something else to wear.” His eyes slipped closed, exhausted from the best sex of his life.

“As will I.”

That made Jim’s eyes pop open. “Why? Did I, uh, get some on you? Sorry.”

“Negative.” Huh. “I believe you are already familiar with how sensitive Vulcan hands are?”

“Did you...” Jim managed to sit up slightly and eyed Spock’s crotch suggestively.

“I did. Your mind is quite dynamic. And your skin is remarkably smooth. I...enjoyed myself.”

Yeah you did. Jim couldn’t keep the smug look off his face. “I’m glad you did too.”

“But it was your gift. For you to enjoy.”

Jim shrugged out of his shirt and scooted closer to Spock, who was quickly undoing the zipper on his pants. “And I enjoyed it. Every part of it. You in my head. Your hand on my cock. Us both coming. A guy could get used to that kind of thing.” He kissed the smile emerging on Spock’s face.

“That is my intention, Jim.”

They helped each other dress, quickly, hands never straying from each other for long. It was as if, now that their true feelings had come out, not touching each other was impossible. The dam had broken and there was no turning back. As if Jim would ever want that. This new side of Spock - cuddly, sweet, and touchy feely - made Jim fall a little bit harder.

\--

“Jim! Spock! You’re late!” Bones yelled at the two of them as they entered the party. “About damn time too. We were about to start with...what the hell are you wearing?”

Left with little options, Spock had put on Jim’s sweatpants. Nothing else in the room fit and they didn’t really have time to stop by Spock’s. Not with how often they stopped to kiss and touch and just kind of bask in the afterglow of everything that happened. He was also donning the ugly Christmas sweater again. Just because.

Jim’s shirt had found its way back on the floor with the rest of his clothes. They couldn’t agree on anything else for him to wear, so Jim settled for the white tee he had on with the jeans Spock had chosen. Only, Spock didn’t want to feel left out. He managed to find an equally horrendous Christmas tie buried amongst Jim’s things and forced Jim to put it on.

All in all, they looked quite the pair standing amidst formal suits and cocktail dresses.

“I don’t even want to know what happened.” Bones grumbled as he took a drink of brandy.

Jim shrugged and Spock straightened just a little bit more, trying to look dignified in the ridiculous outfit.

“I might like to know.” He heard Chapel whisper to Uhura and grinned.

They wandered away from the stares and stunned silence, hands brushing together every so often. And every time they did, Jim felt a sudden burst of joy flood through him. Having Spock by his side, as his Second and his...his t’hy’la was all he needed. Because being with Spock was like sitting beside a blazing fireplace, sipping hot cocoa while watching snow fall silently outside. Spock was the best part of this holiday season, the best part of any holiday season he’d experienced.

Jim hadn’t known he’d get so much out of his decision to give Spock the best Christmas ever. But he had. And knowing Spock loved him, wanted him as Spock’s bondmate, Jim knew they’d only continue to get better. Because as long as they were together, it didn't matter where they were. They'd always be home for each other.


End file.
